If A Tree Falls
by Pandora Nuker
Summary: Nobody remembers the Number Six Level 5 esper of Academy City. Sometimes, Number Six thinks he's forgetting too…


I tried my best to avoid bumping into people on the busy sidewalk as I approached the convenience store. I never cared for philosophy as much as the hard sciences—as far as it concerned me, the field remained a form of mental magic that masqueraded as a path to academic inquiry. Having said this, I do admire the words of the existentialist, Jean Paul-Sartre, who aptly described the world with the words "Hell is other people." So much time had expired since I had last talked or rubbed shoulders with someone. It had been so long since I had heard someone address me by name—unlike Accelerator, I still remembered it, although I suspected that no one else did.

I leaned against the glass door and entered the small shop, the cashier failing to wave at me as he did for the previous customer. I shrugged—I could only expect such an outcome, after all. Various Japanese foods in their colorful packages arrayed themselves on racks and in the glass refrigerator, a delectable selection for anyone else. Sometimes I found it a pity that I retained such a picky eating habit against Asian foods when other connoisseurs would envy my living in Japan. I picked up a package of strawberry Hi-Chews from the candy shelf in front of the cashier—fruit chews didn't pose much controversy to my palate. I opened the oven next to the cashier, withdrawing a hot-dog and shutting the door with a loud bang. The cashier looked in my direction, before returning his focus to a child buying some gum.

I stood pensive in front of the refrigerator for a few minutes, examining its choice of refreshments. After all, though a man can survive for weeks without food, mere days without hydration debilitate him. I went with my usual choice, the Academy City in-house water bottle brand. Although I loathed the eventual backwash taste of bottled water, I found it preferable to the headaches induced by sugary sodas and juices.

I turned and headed not towards the cashier, but the door. The moneycards jingled in my pocket and against my conscience. I shoved the thoughts aside—why pay for something you can get for free? My items totaled under a thousand yen, so my theft wouldn't impact the economic outlook of the store in any case.

As I exited the store, I looked back to see the cashier befuddled at the missing hot-dog. He looked in my direction before shrugging and returning to work.

I find eating while walking unpleasant, but not impossible. Bottle tucked under my arm, I began to ponder what next to do today. Perhaps a lovely and expensive dessert to wash down that unsophisticated frankfurter…

I would say that thievery is unbecoming of an Academy City esper, but then again, I know of other Level 5's who participate in the same activity.

* * *

><p>The scent of sausage grease lingered on my fingers as I realized, with some sadness, that I had failed to bother applying ketchup to my hot-dog. Shrugging, I strolled past the gate and the security robots posted there into the Garden of Learning. I knew that dozens of cameras were tracking my moves every second, but I also knew that it didn't matter.<p>

I never could tolerate the haughty conceit of the wealthy and the empowered here, but interacting with the students was a voluntary decision for me. I live in my own world, separated from the hell of other people.

_Jean-Colette Patisserie_. The hanging store sign came into view as I turned the street. The storefront was paneled with glass and framed with the bricks that characterized the other buildings in the Garden. Peeking through one of the windows, I noted the shop's signature chocolate fountain, cascades of brown shades dripping from a series of glass vessels and disappearing into a crystal receptacle on the floor. I recall when they added it to the shop a few years ago as an attraction for customers and to win some record for publicity.

Going inside, I took in the scents and sights of the crafted pastries arranged in their glass case next to the register. I focused on the cashier, smiling as the familiar look of confusion came over her face and she wandered through a door into the back room. Seizing a takeout box, I went around the case, retrieved one of the pastries with delicate dexterity, grabbed a fork and napkins, and made a motion to leave and grab a seat outside. Looking back, I flung a moneycard at the unmanned register—conscience defeating my egoism, I felt they deserved it.

I sat on a metal folding chair and laid down my prize on a table. Mosaic tiles spiraled on the round surface of the latter, presenting a slight uneven surface. Opening the package revealed a beautiful napoleon, whiffs of custard wafting from its marbled icing layer. Granted, the crumbly puff pastry made consumption somewhat frustrating, but its polish and aroma allured me to the point where I couldn't remember why I avoided coming here more often…

"So I know this absolutely wonderful little pastry shop on Clairaut Avenue…"

I remembered why as soon as I recognized that obnoxious, lilting voice. Shrinking into my chair and amplifying my ability only increased that unpleasant feeling of someone watching me, a sensation uncommon and unfamiliar to me.

"You dears stay here for a few minutes and maybe check out one of the other shops. I'll be right with you in a moment."

I heard approaching steps on the pavement and a laden purse swaying with its contents. Staring at my untouched pastry with a renewed effort, I pretended not to notice when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

"It's been so long, Number Six!"

I continued staring and refused to respond, willing the intruder to go away.

"Come on now, Number Six. It's quite rude not to respond to a friendly greeting."

I gritted my teeth and clenched my hands.

"I have a name, you know," I muttered.

"I don't know your name. Maybe if you told me…"

"You can read minds, right? And if you read mine right now, it'd tell you to go away."

She swaggered herself to my side, her disheveled blonde hair swaying behind her and her eyes gleaming like polished pyrite.

"I could use my ability on you to get your name…but then you could use that channel to use your ability on me and it'd all be futile in the end. Nice try though, Number Six. Do you have any other clever tricks?" she responded.

Misaki Shokuhou, the fifth-ranked Level 5 esper in Academy City, the Mental Out and the only other inhabitant of my own world separated from people. The only person on Earth who can remember that I exist. For that, I had attempted to stay as far away from her as I could.

"I do have to admit, that Tabula Rasa ability of yours intrigues me, Number Six. Although, it's nowhere near as versatile as my Mental Out," she noted in a condescending tone.

"I wonder if this is how Meltdowner feels about Railgun," I grumbled. "Except from what I've seen of her, Railgun abstains from obnoxiousness and doesn't taunt her counterpart every time she sees her."

Mentioning the Ace of Tokiwadai had the desired effect on the Queen. Backing away, Shokuhou protested the directness of my remark.

"How could you imply such a thing of me? Don't tell me you have a crush on that loser Mikoto."

I bolted from my chair, slamming my fist on the table and launching a few crumbs into the air.

"How many times do I have to say that I have zero interest in girls? Cero. E to the pi times i plus one. I'm not saying anything positive about Railgun, I'm only detailing your comparative flaws. Perhaps being surrounded by a clique of zombies under your dominion has made you forget that…"

She responded with a slap on my cheek from her gloved palm.

"I thought I would try being friendly with you, rather foolishly I now see. Perhaps divorcing yourself from the entire world has made you forget basic interaction with humans. If that's how you address the Queen of Tokiwadai, then truly you are an unsalvageable and uncultured troglodyte."

She walked away, rejoining her subjugated acquaintances. I conceded the slap and the insults as an acceptable price for her departure—I cared only that she left me in peace, in my world separated from the hell of other people.

* * *

><p>As the sixth-ranked Level 5 esper in Academy City, I named my ability Tabula Rasa. Tabula Rasa not only erases a person's memory of an object or concept, but prevents them from relearning anything about it indefinitely. Even seeing it, taking photos of it, reading notes about it, and hearing about it can't help them remember—my ability doesn't erase the information, it just makes the person incapable of receiving it. I discovered that my range is infinite, or at least wide enough to cover the entire planet. My ability poses some obvious applications and research facilities attempted to achieve them—they failed, regarding which I may hold some responsibility.<p>

A while ago I erased my existence from the minds everyone in the world as an interesting experiment—although not true invisibility, nobody can notice me unless I will it and nobody can remember any details about me. In a rather clever move on the part of the Board, one can infer my existence through the missing Number Six out of the seven Level 5's in Academy City. I could attempt to patch this hole, although making the world forget the existence of the integer six might have drastic results and ruin human understanding of my much-loved field of mathematics.

By itself, Tabula Rasa is a formidable ability. It would, in fact, be one of the more powerful Level 5 abilities in Academy City if it weren't for that damned Misaki Shokuhou and her Mental Out. Although I have a wider range and can passively enforce anterograde amnesia, Mental Out overlaps in retrograde amnesia and has access to a much wider array of telepathic abilities, including mind-reading, mind control, and memory manipulation. In the eyes of the Board, my ability pales in hers' versatility. As for the Number Five and myself, neither of us can use our abilities on each other without becoming susceptible to the other's, a sort of mutual handicap between the two mental Level 5's.

So here is the Number Six, theoretically capable of making everyone on this damned planet clutch their necks or chests in unison and struggle to remember how to breathe. And then they would all fall to the ground, in unison. All of them, except for that damned Number Five and probably Accelerator if he contrived some vector trick.

Then why don't I? It would be the ultimate paradise devoid of other people. Perhaps the execution of the scheme could never hope to match the imagined anticipation. Perhaps, as much as I detest other humans, I still rely on them in the way we rely on the bacteria in our gut or the beasts in our farms. Perhaps a shattered shard of conscience impedes me from the greatness achieved by true psychopaths like Accelerator and Dark Matter.

Perhaps that has been my aim for the past several years, the objective of my little experiment. To remove the few slivers of morality holding back my Personal Reality from greater power. The power to overwhelm Misaki Shokuhou and all other barriers. Barriers to what? I have no illusions that I could conquer Accelerator…but for an esper, belief is reality. And if I could delude myself into becoming the most powerful esper in Academy City…

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> If I owned Raildex, I wouldn't be writing _fan_fiction. Copyrights to all respective owners except for original characters.


End file.
